Outside the camp the road was full of half-angry, bitterly disappointed infantry—Chaffee's men. When he reached the camp of the cavalry at the foot of the hill again, a soldier called his name as he passed—a grimy soldier—and Grafton stopped in his tracks.
"Well, by God!"
It was Crittenden, who smiled when he saw Grafton's bewildered face. Then the Kentuckian, too, stared in utter amazement at a black face grinning over Grafton's shoulder.
"Bob!" he said, sharply.
"Yessuh," said Bob humbly.
"Whar are you doing here?"
"Nothin', Ole Cap'n—jes doin' nothin'," said Bob, with the naïveté of a child. "Jes lookin' for you."
"Is that your negro?" A sarcastic Lieutenant was asking the question.
"He's my servant, sir."
"Well, we don't allow soldiers to take their valets to the field."